


the sun’s fading light.

by brokenheartsclub



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: & David being loving, Depression, It’s just Matteo being depressed, M/M, love and comfort, that’s all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenheartsclub/pseuds/brokenheartsclub
Summary: “Matteo?” David’s voice was muffled through the door, pulling Matteo out of a restless sleep to a barely conscious state of consciousness. He blinks slowly, lifting a hand to rub over his eyes and turns his head to face the door. David stands in the doorway, a fast food bag in his left hand and the largest size drink in his right. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Matteo and the unpleasant smell greeting him. It smelt exactly like you’d expect; a depressed boy who hadn’t showered in ages mixed with spoiled food and the general untidiness of his room. David stepped over piles of dropped laundry, careful not to step on the cups that loitered all over the floor or any of the garbage. David wasn’t sure how Matteo could produce so much garbage in the days that he’d be left alone? He barely left his bed and yet, his room looked like a scene out of a horror film.—(send a word & a ship:davenzi & depression)
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David Schreibner
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	the sun’s fading light.

**Author's Note:**

> this one was heavily inspired by my severe depressive episode that my loving bf took care of me through which is why it’s love based. this isn’t to say that love cures it (trust me, it doesn’t. if it did, i’d be the fucking painter guy and the other guy that’s like “we all make mistakes. it’s okay. love yourself.”) but how a good relationship with a strong foundation of trust and communication can help.
> 
> also trigger warning for: severe depression & implied suicidal thoughts, negative thoughts abt eating.  
> —  
> unbeta’d.  
> (find me on tumblr at: transmatteo)

There were times where Matteo felt on top of the world; the day would roll by without a care, his body carrying him through the day and his mind focused on the little packets of joy packed in the little moments of the day. He loved those days. He would wrap himself up in David’s arms and they would dance in the small space of their kitchen, waiting as their late night snack cooked on the stove. He’d giggle as David covered his face in soft kisses, pulling Matteo’s attention away from their snack. His body would feel light, as if he was melting in the spaces between David’s fingers, tucking himself into the empty spaces of his love’s heart.

Then there were days like this.

His veins felt like they were filled with stone, weighing his body down to the confines of his bed, sheets wrapped around him like it’s the only thing keeping him afloat. His stomach coiled in on itself, hungry weighed down by the emptiness that was swallowing him whole. He hated these days. He felt like nothing more than a corpse, unable to ground himself long enough to just simply exist. he hated the way David stared at him because it’s the same way he used to stare at his mother. All those times he swore he wouldn’t turn into his mother and yet, here he was.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last gotten out of bed.

There was a bowl of barely-touched cereal on his night-stand, covered with a thick layer of spoiled milk, a half-empty cup of cold coffee made three days ago? maybe a week? Time blurred together far too much for Matteo to be able to distinguish days anymore. He’d wake up, go to work, and then crawled back into bed as soon as his day ended. Today was just a little different. He had called his boss as soon as he woke up, phone placed on the pillow beside him, his body unable to move. This was the day. The day where his mental illness was stronger than his survival instinct, confining him to the walls of suicidal thoughts and a bed of unwashed sheets littered in crumbs.

“I’m sick.” His voice was hoarse and thick, unfamiliar even to him. He hadn’t spoken much lately—only saying the bare minimum to keep people from asking questions but even then, sometimes he didn’t have the energy to pretend. He could only say he was tired so many times in a row before people started getting suspicious. His coworkers pointed it out, eyebrows furrowed with concern, but he did what he always did: he pushed them away to prevent anyone caring about it. It was easier that way.

His boss questioned him, asking for proof, but Matteo wasn’t sick in that way. However, if he had even mentioned his ill mental health, it’d be met with a “ _ it’s not that bad, just come in _ .” or a “ _you’re so young_ !”. All things that he didn’t have the energy to argue with.

“Can you please cover my shift?” The desperation seeped into his voice, the most emotion he could conjure up in weeks, practically begging her to cover his shift. He didn’t call out often and always covered shifts whenever asked. He needed this—he’d never ask for anything else if he could just get this. fucking. shift. off. The silence was deafening, coiling itself around his throat like a rope, threatening to choke him. He couldn’t take it—it was agonizing, digging deeper into his chest with every passing second.

“Fine. But you need to cover someone’s shift to make up for it.” He hung up without a goodbye, just grateful that for once, someone was listening hard enough to understand that it wasn’t a question. He didn’t even argue the fact he always covered shifts for everyone else and it was unfair to punish him. That was an issue for another day.

He rolled over, away from the phone, and just closed his eyes.

**~*~**

“Matteo?” David’s voice was muffled through the door, pulling Matteo out of a restless sleep to a barely conscious state of consciousness. He blinks slowly, lifting a hand to rub over his eyes and turns his head to face the door. David stands in the doorway, a fast food bag in his left hand and the largest size drink in his right. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Matteo and the unpleasant smell greeting him. It smelt exactly like you’d expect; a depressed boy who hadn’t showered in ages mixed with spoiled food and the general untidiness of his room. David stepped over piles of dropped laundry, careful not to step on the cups that loitered all over the floor or any of the garbage. David wasn’t sure how Matteo could produce so much garbage in the days that he’d be left alone? He barely left his bed and yet, his room looked like a scene out of a horror film.

Matteo didn’t reply. He wanted to. He wanted to crawl into the arms of his love, the only thing that made him secure in his own mind, and just relax. He wanted to close his eyes as the hours dragged on by, focusing on the feeling of David’s arms wrapped around him, the comforting feeling of David’s lips against his forehead, or even just the feeling of being held as he fell asleep. He wanted to show David that despite how ill he felt, he was still the most beautiful thing in Matteo’s life. He couldn’t. His body felt like it was weighed down by everything he had ever done wrong, crushing his chest until fresh air was nothing but foreign to him. His body wouldn’t let him.

He hated this. Everything he wanted to do— _ needed to do _ —felt like it was trapped behind a door; one that Matteo didn’t have the key for. He wished it was as simple as hearing someone say ‘I care about you’ or sitting out in the sun but nothing could take away the empty feeling that was hollowing out his body. Nothing could pull him away from the eerie feeling that he was nothing more than an empty waste of space.

“Up you get, you’re eating something,” David says as he crawls into the bed, sitting himself in front of Matteo’s curled body. His eyes were kept on Matteo’s unresponsive face, trying to detect anything from his boyfriend, but nothing came. David mutters to himself about how this would be a bad episode before maneuvering himself to pick up Matteo’s body and leaning Matteo against himself, his chest against the blond’s back. Matteo didn’t argue or fight against David’s arms but he didn’t help either.

“I got your favourite, baby. Can you at least try?” Matteo felt David’s lips through his sweater, his arms tight yet loving around Matteo’s torso. He sighs quietly before leaning forward and grabbing the bag of food off of the night-table. The smell at first made him nauseous; it is a smell that smelt as if it held too much grease, threatening to make his stomach overfill and spill its contents over the floor. He sighs again and put the bag back down, wrinkling his nose. David knew that look so well, he didn’t have to see Matteo’s face to know what it meant.

“Have you smoked any weed today?” Matteo shakes his head. It was too far out of reach for him and he assumed he'd grab some on his next bathroom run but that was hours ago. He wouldn't mind it, if he's being honest. It helps take away the cloudy emptiness in his chest and lifts the burden off of his shoulders, even just for a minute. Some days, it just the little push he needed to be able to drag himself around and mindlessly complete tasks.

David makes a small humming noise as he ponders over the quick thought, wondering if it’d be worth it to get some marijuana into Matteo. He opts for yes. Anything, in moderation, that would help Matteo function a bit better was enough for David. Matteo watches as David takes the time to roll up a joint—an act he had done for Matteo on more than one occasion. David didn’t smoke as often; he preferred to stick with alcohol for things like outings and parties but he also didn’t mind smoking a small amount here and there with Matteo. More often than not, he’d just prep the joint (or bong, or pipe, or—) for Matteo and then curl up with his boyfriend, just high off of love. Matteo prefers weed to most things. It acts as a therapeutic calming measure when his depression dipped too low, or when his anxiety rose too high, or when the world became too much. It also acted as a pain relief on the days where his body seemed to ache more than usual, most likely to due to his posture. He also enjoyed it as a relaxant at parties and outings.

“Here.” David whispers as he began opening the bag of food, putting it out on display as if it was an art project and Matteo was the world’s worst critic. He supposes he can find the humour in how much David babies him; the moment that anyone else attempted to view Matteo as young or a child, he’d lose his respect for them. Just because he’s laid back doesn’t make him naive or a pushover. But when David does it? He can’t help the small fluttering feeling of feeling loved that builds up in his chest. 

David presses a kiss to Matteo’s forehead and tucks the joint behind his ear as he does so, giving his boyfriend a cheeky smile. 

“Like old times,” he comments before pulling Matteo out of the bed and towards the patio. They’re careful to step around the piles of books and garbage, just enough to get to the door. When David opens the door, the soft breeze of cool air immediately makes Matteo’s shoulders relax. He didn’t realize how hot and sticky it was in his room but he’s not surprised; he tends to let go of everything when he’s in this state. 

“You sit out here, I’ll be back in a moment.” David presses another kiss to Matteo’s forehead as he pushes his boyfriend down to the chair and disappears back into the room. Matteo can hear him shuffling about in the room but he doesn’t bother looking back. He knows that David is probably picking things off his floor. David hates messes. Matteo knows this. For the longest time, Matteo would make sure to tidy his room before David came over and he would always laugh softly, pointing out the fact he can still smell the cleaner in the air. Matteo’s frown deepens. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that state. The state where he was still attempting to impress David, hiding the true extent of the depression, just enough for David to allow him to fall in love with  _ him  _ for who he really is. He hates that David has to see him like this. 

By the time that he came back to focus, out of the world where he and David were still living in the honey-moon stage, his joint was small enough to burn his lips. He puts it out on the tabletop and then turns to face the bedroom. David gives him a weak smile, arms filled with the bundle of laundry that he had picked off the floor before dropping it into the laundry basket. If Matteo had the ability, he’d laugh at just how quickly David was able to tidy things. Already, the floor looked cleaner than Matteo had ever cleaned it, depressed or not. 

“Ready to eat?” David asks as he moves to sit next to Matteo, holding onto the display of food. The high already began to set in, just enough to make the corner of Matteo’s lips twitch as he grabbed the container and placed it in front of him. David never failed to make him feel loved, even in the darkest of times. He picks up a fry and pops it into his mouth and although it is not fresh and tinged with the greasy taste of leftover fast food, it’s a relief. His stomach rumbles and he’s reminded of how he can’t even remember the last time he ate. Matteo hums gently to himself as he works on his food, one bite at a time, and David begins talking about his day. 

He goes on about customers at work, clearly frustrated with the lack of respect that exists but Matteo can’t quite process what his boyfriend is saying. He watches as David’s hand runs through his hair repeatedly, the sun causing his chipped glittery nail polish to sparkle enough to catch Matteo’s attention. Then he moves onto the way David’s nose scrunches, a tell-tale sign that he  _ knows _ Matteo isn’t listening.

Matteo just simply grins for the first time in ages. It hurts at first; the way his dry lips crack beneath the pressure of being stretched thin but it's a  _ good _ pain. Smiling on some days feels like a chore and he’s never really been good at self-discipline. Blood begins to pool between crevices in his lips and then Matteo lands his eyes on David’s. His boyfriend is staring at him with the fondest of smiles, hand tucked beneath his chin with his nose slightly wrinkled. Matteo, for the first time in days, feels an explosion of emotions burst from his chest. It’s faint—dimmer than the times where there’s an extra bounce in his steps—but it’s  _ consuming _ .

“You’re staring,” David whispers after a few moments, the corner of his lips twitching. Matteo’s cheek darken for a brief second before he relaxes. He finishes the burger in his hands and then takes a small sip of his drink. The sun outside is beginning to set and the rays line themselves across the space between the pair and for a moment, Matteo believes in fate. What else could possibly explain the way that David fell into his life when he needed him most and gave him the love that he never thought he’d get?

“I love you.” The words are hoarse and tinged with the day’s darkness but Matteo can hear his own love laced within. David simply smiles and watches as Matteo finishes his meal. It’s slow with the gurgling of hunger that Matteo hadn’t quite recognized in a while and the groans of an aching body that has been left in a forming grave for seconds too long. After Matteo finishes, David is quick to scoop up the garbage, accompanied by a kiss on Matteo’s forehead. 

Matteo lifts his finger to his aching lips and runs the edge of his thumb against the cracks. The depression is still coiled around his lings and suffocating him but the love and patience from David kept him afloat. It was the thin bleed of fresh air from between his lips that was just enough to remind him  _ why _ he was so stern in the face of emptiness. 

“C’mon, rat boy. Let’s get you in the shower. You stink.” 

If Matteo heard David whisper the secrets of forever against his clean shoulders as he pretended to sleep later that night, it was his secret to keep. 


End file.
